Drowning in Secrets
by Just Another Fanfiction Nerd
Summary: When Mr.Howard, a teacher at Gotham Academy, notices Dick's constant bruises and scrapes, he fears the worst.   Later armed with the Dark Knight's secret ID, and determined to tell the world, the last thing he expects is the Joker to come waltzing in.
1. Howard

**Hey there all you faithful fans! I just watched the new episode 'Humanity' and was freaking about Robin's love interest! So cute! I was practically squealing through the entire episode! But just so you know, this story has nothing to do with that! This story actually came to me (as all good stories come) during school, and I have been procrastinating writing it. It's basically going to follow Mr. Howard (a made-believe science teacher for Dick Grayson) as he stumbles onto the dynamic duo's identity. And, more importantly, what he chooses to do with this new-found knowledge. Did I mention that the Jokers out of Arkem?**

Drowning in Secrets

There were some things Mr. Howard never understood about his students. Like how some had to be completely color coordinated, from their hair bands to their pencils, or how others chose to wear pants three sizes too big. However, these were minor things that the middle-aged teacher simply accepted as passing fads. After all, every generation had its quirks. But it wasn't just these things that made his Gotham Academy students confusing, no; there were other things that made those kids completely different from anything else he'd seen; and he'd taught private schools.

Whenever a kid's dad would be running for election, or his mother would be filming for a new movie, everyone seemed to treat him like the most wonderful thing since sliced bread. Unfortunately, if the dad got runner up, or the movie didn't make the best sellers list, the kid was, simply put: _dropped. _They were still talked to of course, and still invited to parties and the like; but it was more as a front, in case next year his father won, or the next movie his mom was in was a hit. Heaven forbid if the child's parent actually lost their jobs. It didn't happen very often, but occasionally somebody important would become suddenly poor, and then the child was completely ignored. As if they had caught an infectious disease, everyone steered clear of them. It wasn't long until the poor child ended up leaving the prestigious school, although no one seemed to notice their absence.

It wasn't the notion of bettering one's social or political standpoint that Mr. Howard didn't understand; it was the fact that the people doing it were _children_.

David E. Howard had come from a normal family, living in an ordinary house, and had attended a simple, yet effective school. In fact his life had been so full with average-ness growing up, that he had often wondered if anything of interest was ever going to happen to him. It was this feeling of incompleteness that had led him to Gotham City; one of the most dangerous places in the country.

Upon arriving however, the middle aged teacher had a pang of doubt. Albeit messy, Gotham city had a nice appeal to it. Like all cities, people shoved and pushed through crowded streets, navigating around the sprawling structures with unconscious ease. Storefronts sold anything and everything, from flowers to casual groceries. Overall, nothing threatening or remotely strange was occurring amidst the sea of workers going about their lives. Nonetheless, David had decided to buy a small apartment, at least until bigger accommodations could be found.

Lounging back on his couch, he had let out a quite sigh before flipping on the TV. He still remembered the way it had lit up his small living room, the light bouncing off the walls as he surfed through the channels. Passing a news channel, he had paused, listening to its story of a 'revolutionary man in tights' who occasionally could be seen patrolling the streets of Gotham like some sort of guardian angel. _Batman,_ he had thought to himself, continuing to flick through the channels. _ What right does he have to take the law into his own hands?_ Stopping on _Event News_, he had listened to some reporter ramble on about some huge gala Bruce Wayne was hosting that night. The balding man had watched in interest as the media went berserk, not around the million dollar playboy, but his son.

_Richard Grayson had worn a coal black suite, a stick straight tie, and a nervous smile. He had just stepped out of a dark limo alongside his guardian, and had been immediately surrounded by hungry reporters._

"_Mr. Grayson, what's it like living with the renowned Prince of Gotham?"_

"_What do you plan on doing now that you're living with the richest man in Gotham?"_

"_Tell us what-"_

"_Are the rumors true about you refusing to be adopted?"_

_At this last comment Bruce had finally stepped in, having rid himself of his pesky reporters only a few seconds ago._

"_No comment." Was all the billionaire had said as he led his ward inside, placing a comforting hand on the harassed looking child, all the while shooting disapproving looks at the reporter. _

A week after this introduction to Gotham City and its most famous inhabitants, David had been asked to teach at Gotham Academy, a school for the rich and privileged. It was there that he was to teach science to not only the mayor's daughter and a hundred other important kids, but Dick Grayson himself. When he had inquired why they were giving the job to someone from the backwaters of society, he had been informed simply that there weren't enough teachers willing to teach in Gotham anymore. And so he hadn't complained.

Looking back, if he had said no and gotten out of there sooner, maybe he wouldn't be in this predicament. Maybe if he hadn't taken such an interest in young Grayson and his unorthodox methods, or become concerned with the child's constant bruising, he could have avoided this all together. Or maybe if he hadn't tried to spill the Dark Knights secrets to the world, he would still be around.

Because at that exact moment, he was lying on the cold wet cement in the middle of a ware house. Dead.

** And that's a wrap! For this chapter at least! Note that this was an intro to the story, and that the real story is hopefully gonna be a lot cooler! Plus it's not always gonna be from Mr. Howard's perspective. Thanks for reading this, and to all the people out there who have reviewed my stories: THANK YOU SO FREAKING MUCH! You have no idea how happy each and every one of your comments has made me, and I am internally grateful!**

** However my extreme happiness with the people who reviewed does not excuse those of you who didn't! Want to know a secret? The only reason I post these stories up is to get feedback. Otherwise I would just type them up and throw them away. So please, I know it's selfish, I know you're busy, and yes, I know not all of you can review, but please. Try. **

**So here's a rhyme that will hopefully convince you to Review! :D **

**I won't promise you virtual food,**

**Though I'll update my story.**

**But if you don't review**

**Things'll get gory.**

**(And I don't mean in this fanfiction xD)**


	2. Richard

**Wow! Reviews? I almost couldn't believe my eyes! Thanks to everyone for reviewing! You literally made my day! And I'm being serious here, because when I got your guy's review, I immediately ran up to my bedroom and spent the next hour and a half writing out the chapter plot until I had the entire story outlined. Then I began to write this chapter! So, because your amazing and reviewed so much, here is the next chapter of the story! Now bear with me on this, this is again pretty much an introduction. I will explain everything at the end of this chapter however, so don't be too mad. **

Drowning in Secrets: chapter 2

RICHARD'S POV

Dick awoke to the bright morning sun streaming in through his open bedroom windows. The yellow rays illuminated the teen's four-poster bed, causing its occupant to groan loudly. A digital clock lay nearby on a bedside table, its toxic green numbers reading _5:01_ _am _without sympathy_. _Two birds flittered past the mansion, their warbled melodies drowning out the distant sounds of Gotham City. Smiling to himself, the boy snuggled deeper into his cocoon of blankets, his mind drifting lazily to the comings and goings of the citizens far below.

_The bakeries on 2__nd__ and Paxton streets would already be buzzing with hungry costumers, the lines for each stretching out the door. A few blocks away the police station would be buzzing with new leads, all the while still trying to deal with the ones from yesterday. Commissioner Gordon would probably already be on his second cup of coffee, the veins on his forehead only just visible as he chewed out on officer for sleeping on the job. Outside, the streets would be jam packed with cars and people, all of them yelling and honking and screaming in order to get where they needed to go first. _

Yes, there was absolutely no reason whatsoever for Richard John Grayson to get out of bed that morning and join all the unlucky people going about their day. _Not a single one. _With this thought the teen drifted off into the confines of his sub consciousness, allowing the slumbering darkness to overtake him once again.

_*BEEP*_

_*BEEP*_

_*BEEP*_

An abrupt blaring from his right pierced the thick blanket of sleep surrounding Dick's mind. Poking his head out of the mound of blankets, he glared disbelievingly at the clock as it continued to shriek with no signs of stopping. Wait, why was his alarm going off on a Saturday? A brisk knock at the bedroom door interrupted his thoughts however, and was followed by Alfred's heavy British accent.

"Master Richard I do hope you're getting up sometime soon, because I for one _do not_ want to explain your tardiness to your teachers. Breakfast is ready, and the sooner you eat, the sooner we can get you to school. "

Oh. That would explain his alarm clock; because today _wasn't _Saturday. It was Monday. Suddenly the sunshine didn't seem quite so cheery, and Dick let out another groan, thinking of the following six hours he was going to have to spend in Gotham's most prestigious schools. _School!_ Whipping his head around, Richard stared at the green numerals, frozen for a moment as panic began to course through him. He was soon galvanized into action however as his back-up alarm began to announce his impending doom shrilly. Twelve minutes left.

Nearly tripping in his haste to untangle himself from his sheets, Dick sprinted to the bathroom. Leaving his pajamas in a heap on the tiled floor, he grabbed his toothbrush and tooth paste before jumping into the shower. Three minutes later he emerged sopping wet, but clean. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he bolted to his dresser and began to throw on his school's dark blue uniform, the fine material sticking to his damp skin when he decided to forgo drying off altogether. Another three minutes and he was ready to go. Giving himself a once-over in his full length mirror, his heart nearly stopped when he realized what he was forgetting. His hair!

Stumbling back into the steamy bathroom, the boy quickly wiped away the fog that was concealing the mirror with his hand. Dark ebony locks hung over his forehead, framing his deep blue eyes perfectly. Regrettably his hair was going to have to take a break from being sexy in order to fit the strict dress code. The teen's gel-lined comb pulled the dark locks back, revealing the child-like face underneath. That and something else. A dark and swollen bruise stretched from Dick's left temple to his upper forehead, marring his pale skin with its sickly color. It was a testimony of what he did every night, every blow at humanity that he's had to stop. Unfortunately every blow had to land somewhere, and for whatever reason Two Face had decided that that would be the Boy Wonders friggin' head. Just great.

With trained hands Richard went about applying the cover up he'd bought when he'd first started fighting the criminals of Gotham as Robin. Over the past years he had become an expert on hiding the scrapes and bruise brought on by his line of work. Looking back at the mirror, he was pleased to admit that the purplish lump was almost unnoticeable. Only the faintest discoloring could be seen along the roots of his hairs. But hey, who would notice?

"Master Richard it is impervious that we leave this _instant_." The British butler's voice called from somewhere down stairs, giving Richard another jolt of panic.

He didn't even want to think about the consequences of being late to school. Bruce would throw a fit if he thought Dick's education was being put in jeopardy from Robin's late night excursions. So with that the teen raced to Alfred's waiting car, grabbing his book bag and shoes on the way out.

Maybe if he had glanced in the mirror one last time he would have realized his grave mistake. If he had realized his mistake, maybe he wouldn't have put his entire secret identity at risk. And if he hadn't put his identity at risk, maybe later he wouldn't find himself dangling thirty feet off the ground with the Joker's goons waiting far below.

If Richard had been able to see the danger lurking in his near future, then he would have simply taken a little longer than necessary in front of the mirror that sunny October morning. Of course if he had, then there'd be no story.

**And there we go! Finally got the introductions done and over with! Now for those of you who are wondering why on earth I had to write TWO intro's, well it's because there are two main characters with completely (yet overlapping) different problems. So I had to introduce each characters POV before I could really get the metaphorical ball rolling. I've planned out the entire rest of the story, which is going to be around fourteen chapters. So here's a brief outline for you guys! Howard isn't going to find out Richard's secret until chapter five/six. (Gotta build it up first) Then after that things start moving quickly, the climax would be around chapter eleven, with the falling action and conclusion on chapters thirteen through fourteen. **

**I plan to get this accomplished by writing at least three chapters a week, and then hopefully another two or three during the weekend. And all this was spurred by your reviews! I hope I can take you where no fanfiction has ever gone before (even though some already have) and give you something you'll be proud to have read!**

**So with that, please review.**

**Because honestly, reviews are what drives me to write.**

**The more I get, the faster I crank out the chapter.**

**But if I don't get any….**

**Well let's just say it's not like I **_**have**_** to write the next chapter.**

**Please review! :D**


	3. Connecting the Lines

**Hey sorry for the wait people! I have been extremely busy, but my excuse is at the bottom. I just wanted to thank my amazing beta ****algie888 for helping me to edit this chapter! Also THANK YOU REVIEWERS! I nearly died from happiness when I got all of your reviews! So I hope this chapter does me justice! (as a way of expressing my gratitude that is :D)**

Chapter 3:

_Howard's POV_

The crisp October air was an unwelcomed companion as David picked his way through the crowded streets of Gotham. Overhead the clouds hung low, their swollen bellies seemingly to rest upon the buildings towering on either side. Cars formed a long line of constant noise as their occupants cursed at one another in encouragement to move, and their chocking black smoke only added to the overall unpleasantness of the city. Gotham: a city known for its irritableness and bad weather. Had it been any other day he would have been amidst the steady stream of vehicles, equally annoyed with the world as everyone else. However, it seemed fate would have it differently. Early that same dreary morning, David had climbed into his dark blue Neon, only to find to his utter dismay that his beat up car simply wouldn't start. Out of money and faced with no other option, the middle aged man was faced with only one alternative. Walking.

So now here he was, hurrying as fast as his stubby legs could carry him through the intricate labyrinth of people and buildings, trying to find his way to the school where he worked. Skirting around road blocks and sprinting between the continuously lurching cars, the balding teacher began to wonder if his day could possible get any more exciting. After all, it wasn't everyday that someone could wake up late, have their car break down and have to run the four miles to work while their job hung in the balance. _No soiree_, he thought sarcastically, _I must be the luckiest guy on the planet._

If Gotham had been a person, David was sure it'd be laughing at him.

Emerging at last in a large intersection David stopped to take in his surroundings, and experienced the feeling similar to what one would feel if a bucket of ice cold water was suddenly poured over their head, or if they had just stepped into quick sand and were slowly sinking into a bottomless void. Because instead of arriving two blocks away from his destination on Horton Boulevard he'd somehow managed to come out on Paxton Street, a good ten blocks away from where he needed to be. The groaned and knitted his eyebrows as he mentally retraced his steps, ignoring the annoyed glares he was receiving from the people who were forced to shove past his immobile form. He realized with mute horror that he'd somehow taken a wrong turn, _several _wrong turns, as he was cutting through alleyways and around the multiple construction sites.

School was starting in less than fifteen minutes, and unless he were struck by Godly lightning and blessed with Speed Force, there was no way he was going to make it. He had only been teaching for a few months, but it seemed like he could just about kiss his job good bye. The one thing Mrs. Sherry, the principal of the school, hated most was tardiness, be it students or teachers. She was known throughout the school as ruthless when it came to rules, and David had been informed that if he so much as put one toe out of line, then he'd be done for. She was also known as the tyrannous witch from hell, something that he thought fir her quite nicely.

His shoulders slumped in defeat, he couldn't even last three lousy months in Gotham before he screwed things up, and he felt his eyes begin to prickle as helplessness settled in. Gotham was his chance to make something in the world, to_ be a part_ of something big, and now it seemed he'd screwed it up. _You've seen the Joker_, a tiny voice said in the back of his mind, _and you've seen the mindless destruction of super villains._ Well that was true, he _had _seen quite a lot since coming here, and he'd seen a lot of mind numbing things, like that crazy clown. David was looking to fill the empty void inside of him, and he had thought moving to the city would somehow transfer all the business and excitement into him. But there was one key difference between living in the city, and living _with_ the city. He'd never experienced any of the things he'd come for, as if he had only been a visitor looking in through a grimy window, and now it seemed he'd never get the chance.

Shaking his head angrily, the balding man pushed his depressing thoughts aside; this was no time to just be standing around.

"Where there's a will there's a way." He mumbled to himself before preparing to make a last ditch attempt to arrive at the school in time.

Just as he was stepping of the curb to make a dash between a recent gap between cars, a black limo screeched to a stop in front of him, nearly taking his foot off in the process. Jumping back in surprise, David glared warily at the dark vehicle, his gut twisting uncomfortably at its close proximity. A moment later however the passenger window was rolled down, revealing an old British man with a cheery smile sitting behind the wheel.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Howard I presume?"

Taken aback by this strange occurrence, David had to force himself not to look stupidly around. After all, how many people were named Howard in this city?

"And you would be..?" He asked cautiously, bending down slightly to peer through the open window at the stranger.

"Oh pardon my manners sir, you may call me Alfred. Alfred Pennyworth. My charge, Richard here, is a student of yours if I am correct." As the man spoke, a boy with slicked back hair and electric blue eyes shoved his head through the lowered compartment window leading into the interior of the car, and shot him a knowing, devil-may-care smile.

"Hey Mr. Howard. A little late to be walking to school don't you think?"

It took David a few seconds to recognize the face that beamed back at him, and then it hit him like a ton of bricks. _Richard_ Grayson Wayne. The kid was the ward of Bruce Wayne, Gotham's billionaire extraordinaire, not to mention he also sat in the front row of his biology class.

"Well…ah..._yes_ it is a bit late, but I was just about to um….err…" He cast about for something to say, anything was better than just standing there like an idiot, not to mention he was acutely aware of the time slowly trickling by.

"You weren't thinking of running the whole way to school were you?" The British man, _Alfred_ David had to remind himself, asked skeptically while raising a single eyebrow-the height of sophistication.

"Why don't we give you a ride Mr. H? And you'd better hurry it up or were gonna be late." Richard said, before withdrawing his head from view.

The door opened a second later and David was left with little option but to clamber inside. Once inside he was able to get a better view of the interior, and he almost couldn't believe his eyes. It was if he had stepped into a fancy restaurant rather than a bulky limousine. The upholstery was made entirely out of leather, and along one side a mini bar, complete with martini and wine glasses, was outlined in what appeared to be solid gold. Intricate engravings adorned the wooden panels and doors, their twisting shapes easily capture his attention. Everything was so neat and orderly, he felt out of place in his wrinkly polo shirt and casual dress pants. Grayson on the other hand looked completely picture perfect amidst all the finery. His school blazon was ironed solid without a single speck of dirt adorning it, while his shoes shone brightly even in the semi-darkness. As always, not even a single hair atop his head was out of place.

While his teacher had been studying the inside with awe, Dick had waited patiently, a sickly pleasant smile plastered on his face. _This is going to be so awkward_, the boy thought, sifting uncomfortably in his seat. Clearing his throat loudly, and seeing that he had successfully captured his teacher's attention, grinned cheekily back at him.

"So why _were_ you all the way over in Paxton? Don't you know the school's in the opposite direction?" The boy taunted, seemingly to forget he was talking to a _teacher_.

David frowned slightly, although he was now technically indebted to the kid, it wasn't as if he was going to let Richard in on that fact.

"If you must know, my car broke down. But I was just about to call a taxi when you showed up so you can stop looking all smug about it."

Richard snorted at his obvious lie but didn't call him out on it, something for which the teacher was grateful about. A pregnant silence followed, and as the boy turned to stare blankly out the window, David took the time to study the famous billionaire's ward.

Like any other boy he taught, Grayson was a straight A student. He never caused trouble or disobeyed rules; in fact there was nothing remarkable about him that would make him stand out from among the sea of people he taught. Yet stand out he did. Since the beginning of the school year the boy seemed to have something off about him, and whatever it was it started with his eyes. The blue orbs seemed to be filled with an unknown horror, as if they had been able to truly see the monsters of the world lurking in the dark. They were the eyes of an adult, with an air of confidence about them that one just couldn't get from books or tests. An intense electric storm seemed to build up from within them, something that most people couldn't seem to meet.

Although Richard's eyes marked him as unique, there was another quality the boy possessed, except this one drove people away. For whatever reason, the young teen refused to play the game of popularity. All the other students would be worrying about family positions, or making better impressions on richer families, but not Grayson. He was polite enough, but he never gave the impression of being interested in the happenings of the political or social world. Most students became indignant or angry when they realized this, no doubt because they assumed Richard thought he was simply too good to bother with them. In reality however, it seemed the young teenager had better things to do than waste his time chasing after acceptance.

Noticing David's staring, the boy rolled his eyes before sending the teacher a contemptuous look. So maybe he had been wrong, maybe Grayson wasn't _too _different from all the other snobs he taught. The older man cleared his throat, casting about for something to say.

"So Richard-"

"Call me Dick. Everyone does." Richard- _Dick -_cut in swiftly.

_The name suits you._ David mused idly. He mentally kicked himself. His late mother had drilled a strict 'no swearing policy' into him as he was growing up, and he'd hate to imagine the grief he would have caused her spirit if he had spoken aloud.

"Dick then. What's it like living with Bruce? I hear he throws a lot of parties."

At the mention of his guardian, the boy glanced quickly to the back of Alfred's head, as if judging his next words carefully. Turning back to Mr. Howard, he answered nonchalantly.

"It's alright I suppose, though half the time he isn't even there. And the parties aren't so bad, I mean-at least once you get used to all the drunk' people hanging around…" He trailed off however, when he realized his teacher was no longer listening, and was instead staring at him in alarm.

"What?" Dick demanded, his eyebrows narrowing in annoyance.

"N-nothing!" David said quickly, shaking his head as if trying to drive out an unwanted thought.

"Well actually," he amended, leaning slightly forward as he did so. "Did you get hit in the head recently?"

The color slowly drained from Richard's face, and for a moment he thought the boy had stopped breathing. However his worries were expelled when the teen took a sharp breath a half a second later and frowned contemplatively.

"Are you trying to insinuate something Mr. H?"

David drew back cautiously, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. He could have sworn he'd seen a bruise when the boy had turned to glance at the driver, but now he wasn't so sure. However, Grayson's reaction had been surprising, almost as if David had stumbled upon something he shouldn't of.

"Not at all," The middle-aged man hurriedly assured him. "I just thought I saw a bruise of some kind."

The reaction was instantaneous. Grayson hand flew up towards his face, but the boy quickly changed it path so he ended up just rubbing his neck awkwardly. _I thought I covered it up! _Dick thought crossly, angry at himself for slipping up. Fabricating a mask of lighthearted embarrassment, he let out a strained laugh.

"Well it's pretty dark in here, you must be imagining things."

"You sure your-" David pressed concernedly.

"I'm _fine._" Dick snapped, while his body tensed up in preparation for a fight.

But before either could continue their conversation, the limo pulled to a stop outside the large glass doors of Gotham Academy.

"Have a good day Master Richard. Mr. Howard." Alfred said, opening the side door for the two to exit the vehicle. How the butler managed to get out and around the car to their door was beyond David, but he wasn't complaining.

Gotham Academy rose impressively before him, its majestic spires stretching up into the fog-covered sky. Large glass windows adorned the front of the school, as if to display its neatly tiled floors. Long hallways could be seen crammed with students, and David gave a sigh of relief as he realized that they'd make it with time to spare. Turning around to thank Richard for the ride he stopped short, realizing that the boy was already making his way to a red-headed junior. The limo had magically disappeared, with only a thin line of smoke as testimony it had been there at all.

David's lips drew down into a frown once again as he made his way towards the entrance, his mind replaying the same disturbing scene. As Dick had reached up to scratch his neck his jack sleeve had been pulled down, revealing a line of grotesque bruises which stood out strikingly against his pale skin. For whatever reason, the boy didn't want to admit he was hurt, which was strange. If it had happened by accident, David didn't think he would have tried so hard to cover it up. So it was obvious that the teen was hiding something, and whatever it was it was putting him in harm's way. _Heck, the kid could be doing this to himself for all I know_! The teacher thought grouchily, reaching for one of many handles on the extravagant door.

This wasn't the first time he'd seen the boy hurt, now that he took time to think about it. There were actually plenty of occasions where Grayson had sported some sort of injury, whether it was just a small bruise, or a limp on one leg. It hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time, but now that David focused on it, he couldn't help but agree that it must've been more than mere coincidence. The option of bullying came to mind, but he quickly shot it down. No one in the school would dare lay a hand on the boy, because they knew that Dick only had to notify Wyane in order to get them expelled. They knew because he'd done it before.

_Well if he's not getting bullied maybe he's doing the bullying?_ Again the thought was shut down almost as quickly as it emerged. Richard just didn't seem like the type of kid who bullied others. In fact, the teen had stood up for quite a lot of other kids when he felt they were being picked on. _Then what?_ David thought angrily, passing a few open classrooms on his way to his own. As he walked past the health room, a giant yellow sign caught his attention, causing him to come up short. It was one of those cheesy school posters that all teachers seemed to have the urge to frame. Instead of asking students not to use drugs or to cheat on tests, this one was demoting gang violence, and showed a picture of a bandana wearing kid with defiant eyes and a busted lip. David's mind buzzed with inspiration. This was the answer to he'd been looking for. This explained Grayson's constant injuries and seemingly cold behavior. It had to be, because any other explanation was simply illogical when compared to this.

Richard was in a gang.

**And done! Wow 7 pages? Can you dig it? **

**So sorry for not posting the next chapter sooner, I was working double hours all week, so the time I would normally have spent writing, I had to spend watch screaming little kids. I did however write you a nice long chapter, so no complaining! Thanks again to my beta, ****algie888, who helped me edit this chapter! And thank you wonderful readers and commenter's! You make life worth living! :D**

**So please lemmy know what you think of this chapter!**

**I tried adding more details (somebody commented about tht) **

**So let me know if this was any good!**

**Also do you guys prefer long chapters like this, or short ones like the first two?**

**Review please!**


	4. Apprehension

**And finally! Another chapter completed! I'm am truly sorry for how long it took for me to post this, I've just been extremely….lazy. There I said it. Happy? I'll admit it, after all it happens to everyone, just don't kill me! I say I was being lazy, because if I **_**really**_** wanted to I could have stayed up till three in the morning writing this chapter; or I could have pretended to be sick so I could stay home instead. So because I slaved away on homework assignments instead of working on what's **_**really**_** important, I am sorry. I'll try better next time.**

**Special thanks to my beta: Blackstar001**

**Without you I would just sound stupid**

Drowning in Secrets: Chapter Four

Richard's POV

"Oh my god!" Dick exclaimed once he had put a considerable distance between him and his teacher.

Barbra, his spunky redheaded friend, shot him a concerned look before falling in step beside him. Her school uniform was tight fitting, but it was nothing compared to the full-body encasing suit she wore as Batgirl. Fortunately for him, he had already become somewhat immune to her extremely feminine appearance; the other boys loitering around however, weren't so lucky. As the pair passed, countless heads swiveled to drool longingly at her, and Dick almost forgot his own problems as he shot death glare after death glare back at the perverted teens. That is, until they came to a stop far enough away from prying ears.

"So what's got your feathers in a bundle?" Barbra teased, crossing her arms for warmth as the cool fall air blew over the two.

"He thinks I'm abused!" The younger teen groaned, burying his face in his hands.

An explosive giggle escaped the girl, causing his head to snap up in indignation. Glaring whole heartedly at the redhead who was now laughing uncontrollably, he waited for her to calm down. When she had finished gasping for air like a fish out of water, he scowled while snapping vehemently.

"This isn't funny Babs! I'm being serious!"

Barbra shook her head and held up her hands in surrender, showing that she was done, although a small smile still played in the corners of her mouth.

"Sorry sorry, I just…wasn't expecting that." Lowering her arms back to their original position, she asked curiously. "So who thinks you're abused?"

Richard shot her a warning look before saying quietly.

"…Mr. Howard."

The red-haired girl held her lips firmly between her teeth, determined not to laugh at him for the second time that morning. After all this was serious. Right?

"And why does he think that again?" She managed to inquire after the urge to crack up wasn't so strong.

"Well it's because-" He broke off suddenly, his body seeming to freeze for a split second before he began to hurriedly tear through his back pack.

Holding up a compact mirror, one with The Batman logo printed on front, he checked his forehead while mumbling curses under his breath.

"Come again?" Babs asked, cocking an eyebrow at her friend's antics.

Producing a stick of cover up from yet another of his many pouches, he began to touch up the light bruise on his forehead, his tongue poking out in concentration.

"He saw my bruise. I don't know how, I mean, I covered it up this morning, but somehow he still saw it."

Frowning in confusion, she tilted her head to the side, studying the boy in front of her. When she had first seen him that morning she had noticed the faint bruising adorning the side of his head, but that was because she was more observant than most. Unless someone was to stand and stare at him, no one should have seen anything. After all, Richard was great with covering bruises; she had shown him how to do it herself. So that meant that either both Dick and his teacher were really close to each other for an extended amount of time, (not something she wanted to think too deeply about) or that Mr. Howard was a lot more perceptive than she'd thought.

"I still don't see how you would come to the conclusion that he thinks you're abused." She said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Well he asked what it was like living with Bruce, so I started talking about all the parties he likes to throw. And right when I'm talking about all the drunk people hanging around, he comments on my bruise; and now he thinks I'm abused." He finished, snapping his mirror shut with finality.

"Dick, I don't see how you came to that, I mean, it could've been just a coincidence. You're probably just jumping to conclusions like always. Besides, I'm sure he's probably already forgotten about it anyways." The teen reassured as she shrugged her shoulders halfheartedly.

"You didn't see how he looked at me Babs. It was like he _knew_ something was up, like he knew I was trying to hide something. People like that just don't _forget_. They don't just _give up_. " He gave a frustrated sigh before spreading his hands out in a pleading gesture. "What am I supposed to do? I have his class in four hours!"

The red head rolled her eyes despite the seriousness of the situation. Richard could be so darn cute when he asked for her help, it was almost unbearable. Almost.

"I'm sure you'll be _fine_. Just act like you normally do, and after a while everything will blow over. Trust me." She said, throwing and arm around his shoulder.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to retort the bell rang, and a cold, heavy feeling enveloped his heart. Grumbling a good bye, he shrugged off her shoulder before slinging on his backpack. As he began to push his way through the current of students, he dimly wondered how much trouble he would be in if he simply skipped his fourth period.

-(Break?)-

Apprehension clawed its way through Dick's stomach, marching in time to his heart's doomed beatings. He felt awful. For the past three hours he had been worrying incessantly about the confrontation he was sure was to come the moment he stepped inside Mr. Howards classroom. Barbra's reassurance had done little to appease the knot slowly forming in his lower abdomen, and it had done even less to settle his thoughts. So instead of focusing on what his ancient teachers had been rambling on about for the better part of the morning, Richard had been planning.

He figured he wouldn't say anything unless Mr. Howard made the first move, that way it would keep him from giving anything away. If his teacher commented on their conversation earlier, Dick couldn't sound too defensive or overly emotional. If he was defensive then it would seem like he had something to hide, and if he was exuberant in his reply then he would only raise Mr. H's suspicions that something was up. The safest way would be to seem uninterested, but not too much because then it'd seem like he was trying to cover up his real emotion, and that would lead to the same problem as his other responses. The trick was finding the right level of emotion, something Richard had been contemplating all morning.

As the bell rang, he had to fight the urge to throw up. Put him in front of an entire legion of Gotham's worst goons, and he would have laughed. Ask him to walk into his Fourth period where his teacher was probably waiting to ambush him, and he would have told you to go screw yourself. It shouldn't have bothered him this much, after all Mr. Howard only thought he was being abused, it wasn't as if the man had discovered Dick's extracurricular activities or anything. But to Richard it might as well have been the same.

To him it was easy to connect the dots between his public identity Dick Grayson, and his secret identity as Robin the Boy wonder. Once you started looking you could see that both were the same age, had the same hair color, same height, and most of all the same resource. Money. For him it was common knowledge that in order for a non-human to become a super hero he needed money, after all how else were they going to get all the cool equipment? And everyone knows how easy it would be for the ward of Bruce Wayne to scrounge up a few thousand.

Plodding slowly through the sea of people, he felt his heart drop like a lead weight inside his chest, before settling heavily at the bottom of his stomach. Up ahead his next classroom loomed, the door propped open with one of those emergency safety buckets every teacher seemed to use. Swallowing nervously, Dick stepped through the door way, wishing he could be anywhere but there.

Mr. Howard was seated at his desk typing away on his computer, and he didn't even glance up as Richard took his seat in the front row, barely five feet away. A question about Natural Selection was posted on the smart board, and Dick took his notebook out as silently as he could, his body tensed for the conversation he knew was coming. A few minutes past before Mr. Howard made his first move. Turning towards the boy he stood up, before saying in a cheerful voice.

"Good Morning."

However he wasn't looking at Richard as he said it, and the ebony's suspicions were affirmed a moment later as the class chorused back.

"Good Morning Mr. Howard."

Stunned, Dick didn't say a word. He couldn't believe his luck. Maybe Babs had been right all along, and he had just been over thinking things like usual. Suddenly his heart felt a lot lighter.

The rest of the period passed without incident, and aside from asking him about stuff related to the subject they were going over in class, Mr. Howard didn't speak to him. As far as he knew, everything seemed to have gone back to normal, as if their conversation earlier had never taken place. Richard thanked his lucky stars as the period passed in normalcy; and if Mr. Howard had looked at him a bit more than usual, he never noticed.

-(Break)-

"HE DID WHAT?" Dick exclaimed, looking at Alfred in outrage.

"He asked to come over for dinner sometime this week in order to have a personal discussion with Master Bruce about your grades." The butler stated matter-of-factly, and continued to dust one of the many paintings lining one of the numerous hallways inside the Manor.

Dick groaned loudly into his hands, shaking his head back and forth as if he was an ecto-sketch and was trying to erase news he had just heard.

"You said no though… right?"

As Alfred continued to dust, the boy glared daggers at his back, already knowing the answer to his question. The butler was too sociable to turn down a house call, and he had probably thought he'd been doing Bruce a favor. After all, the man hardly ever took a night away from his nightly job, with the exception of the occasional gala or fundraiser he'd throw in for show. So with that mystery solved, that only left one question.

"When."

Turning to look at his young master, the butler pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Since I saw no point in avoiding the inevitable…I told him tonight would be perfect."

Unbelievable. The entire act today at school had all just been an elaborate ploy in order to get Dick to drop his guard. What angered him most though is that it had worked. Picking up his backpack from where it was been tossed on the floor, he stalked past Alfred, while muttering darkly under his breath.

"I'm going to Wally's."

The British man only shrugged his shoulders before continuing his cleaning. _The boy would get over it_, he figured. As Richard made his way into the Batcave via the grandfather clock passage way, he chewed his cheek angrily. If Mr. Howard wanted to talk to Bruce about his grades then fine. He'd just make sure he didn't come back from Wally's house until twelve. Slipping into the Batchair in front of the Batcomputer (Sometimes Batman was a little _too _cliché) Dick typed in his best friends number with fast hands, eager to see his favorite redhead after such an awful day.

After the third ring a video link opened up, showing Wally's messy hair and freckles, the later stretched as he beamed back at his tiny friend.

"Hey Dick, what's up?"

"I need to-" Richard was cut off however, as a girl with long brown hair clamored over Wally in order to peek at the screen.

"Hey Dick!" She said, her long brown hair slightly covering the redhead's eyes, as she perched happily atop his back, her hands crossed above his head in order to keep from tipping over.

"Oh hey Sierah." The ebony greeted, before clearing his throat loudly in order to get his friends attention. "Look Wally I need to come over."

Wally peeked out from beneath the girl's hair, his cheeks dusted slightly in what could only have been a blush.

"Alright, need me to come pick ya up? Or is Ba-Brucey gonna drive ya?" He asked, blowing Sierah's hair out of his face.

"Come get me." Richard decided, checking his wrist watch for the time.

"Say the magic word!" The girl chirped, shaking her finger in a shooing motion.

He glared at the screen for a long moment, and she seemed to catch on to his foul mood because a moment later she added weakly.

"Or not..."

"I'll be read in five." And with that he exited the screen.

Knowing Wally, he'd probably take twenty minutes to finally pick Dick up. Slouching down in his chair, the teen resolved that no matter what happened that night, he was going to convince Bruce to let him switch his Biology class first thing tomorrow.

**Finally only a chapter away from the Discovery!**

**So for whatever reason I can't seem to write the same for both Dick and Howard's POV's. Dick comes off as more of a 'get to the point' type of style, while Mr. Howard comes off as detailed and probably more adult sounding. I am incredibly sorry for those of you that like my detailed writing, I was seriously lacking in that area this chapter! However it's Howard's POV next chapter, so hopefully I can appease your anger then? Also Sierah is just an awesome friend of mine and I thought I would add her in this story for a little one-shot type thing. She WILL NOT be in any other chapters in this story, so don't get your panties in a bundle. xD **

**And now for my replies to my reviewers! :D**

**For most of you (****ajas136****, ****swirlhearty23**** , ****Leahisasuperhero****, ****titansfan1211****, and ****SuperGirlFromCali****) you guys commented on the fact that Richard was in a gang. This was something I decided to add in at the last minute, because originally Howard was going to suspect child abuse. (As mentioned in this chapter) However I decided that, coming from such a plain background and whatnot, Mr. Howard should be a little out there in his thinking. So thank you for your reviews! **

**Also Leahisasuperhero asked how long Mr. Howard has been teaching, and I have calculated that he would have been teaching for the grand total of about a month and three weeks. (Thanks again)**

**Thank you ****AliantDarkShadows**** for your wonderful review, albeit scary, I loved it! It made me laugh really hard in the middle of class (When I check my reviews on my phone) and got some pretty strange looks because of it! xD Thanks a bunch!**

**For ****Cunningham0208487****: I'm glad I could feed your need for details (sorry about this chapter though) and your comment makes me very excited! I cannot begin to describe how awesome it makes me feel to have been able to suck you into my story :D Loved your review!**

**DXmaryoOD****, I am so glad I was able to convey my ideas into a story that people not only comprehend, but like as well. Writing isn't the easiest thing in the world, and I am glad I could sape the words into something that you and other readers could enjoy! Thank you so much!**

**For ****Chibi Lauryn**** and ****Kyd Chyme**** who commented on my chapter lengths: Thanks a bunch! I have decided to try and write longer chapters, so thanks for your encouragement no matter what I chose! :D**

**And last but not least, ****Panthera Uncia****, who is probably dead. When I read your review I was motivated to new heights in my eagerness to write the next chapter ASAP, but alas that didn't do me any good since I was in the middle of class at the time. I am terribly sorry for your (probably) untimely death, and wish that this chapter (while absolutely horrible in my mind) will somehow have the power to revive you. :D**

**THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING!**

**Now if you guys could just let me know how you thought this chapter was, that'd be great!**

**Because I thought it was seriously lacking and the characters seemed robotic almost. **

**Agree? Disagree?**

**Just don't send Cheshire after me….**


	5. Diner With Wayne

**I have no excuses worthy of your time.**

_David E. Howard's POV_

"I want your research papers turned into me no later than Thursday!" Mr. Howard shouted over the clamoring of his students; all of whom were paying him no attention at all and were eagerly lining up by the classroom door instead.

As the bell rang loudly overhead the kids poured out into the hallway, pushing and shoving in their hurry to get away from the stuffy, boring room. Howard sighed as he sat down in his exaggeratedly large leather chair; burying his head in his hands as he did so-it had been a long day. Pressing his palms tiredly against his eyes, he groaned in frustration before letting them fall limp against the arm rests. On his desk sat a polished black state-of-the-art phone, its cord hanging wearily over the side; as if it too had had a long day. The exuberant whoops and yells of the students were growing quieter as they began to disperse, leaving an eerie silence echoing in their wake.

He sat for a moment in the blissful quite, gathering his resolve before picking up the cool black phone and hitting the redial button. The dial tone resounded quietly in the empty room for a few moments before Howard heard a familiar voice on the other end.

"Wayne Manor, how may I assist you?"

"Hey Alfred," The teacher greeted; running a hand through his almost non-existent hair. "I was just wondering when exactly Mr. Wayne would be available to meet?... uh-huh. Tonight? I wouldn't want to impose…Well if he's okay with- … Alright …You sure?... Seven o'clock it is then. Thank you Alfred… Bye."

Placing the black phone into it holder, Howard heaved a great sigh of relief. Albeit slightly nervous about the upcoming meeting, he felt pretty confident about what he was going to say. The hardest part would be making sure he didn't offend one of the richest men in the world, but there was little he could do about that. After all, he'd heard it was good to nip trouble when it buds; he just hoped he wasn't too late for Richard.

_The kids probably gonna be fine, _David thought, gathering up his things while preparing himself for the long walk home. _After all, _he resolved, plunging the classroom into darkness with the flip of a switch, _Dick was a thirteen year old kid, it's not like he'd be doing anything life-threatening. He'd probably just fallen into the wrong crowd is all. _

Six forty-five came in the shape of a dark blue Honda parked outside his apartment complex. Upon arriving home from school earlier that day, David had called up an old friend who lived just outside the city's boundaries, asking if he could borrow a car- considering his own was out of commission. Having had already made plans for a night out in the town, the man had agreed to let Howard borrow the car, on the condition that the teacher would owe him a favor sometime in the future. With having little other option, the balding man accepted the conditions wholeheartedly; it'd save him the embarrassment of arriving at Wayne Manor in a taxi cab. He'd then spent the next few hours grading his never-ending stack of papers, rehearsing how he was going to breach the subject that the Prince of Gotham's son was probably in a gang, and in the end giving up on everything in order to watch the news.

A drum roll, followed by an unnecessarily loud and repetitive knocking, was the burden Mr. Howard's apartment door had to sustain for a good five minutes before the teacher managed to fling it open in annoyance. Outside stood Murphy; hand raised in mid-bang. Upon seeing his old friend, a goofy smile lit Murphy's face, and it took all of Mr. Howard's strength to keep his pal from barreling him over in a giant bone-crushing hug. A few minutes later found the dark blue Honda zooming down the highway, stopping for a moment to drop Murphy off at the nearest club, before resuming its long drive towards the outer edge of the city, and consequently, Wayne Manor.

The Manor was to be found atop the highest point in Gotham, giving it the not-so-subtle impression that it was looking down upon the rest of the city. Its impressive structure was silhouetted against the fading rays of daylight, a warm glow spilling onto the circular drive-way from the large glass windows situated on either side of the large mahogany door. The building was larger than Howard would've imagined; it could have easily swallowed his meager apartment ten times over. The most awe-inspiring aspect about the place however wasn't the architecture, which seemed to have sprung from a mix between the Greek's Parthenon and the front page of _Mansion Builders 10; _but the large iron and stone gate surrounding the complex. The barrier began miles from the actual house, (Mr. Howard had been waved through by a bored looking security guard), and continued to enclose Mr. Wayne's large property. Every hundred yards along the parameter of the fence there stood a guard, a gun slung causally over their shoulder as they traveled back and forth over their allotted section, reminding the teacher of irate tigers pacing inside their cages.

After pulling up the long drive way Mr. Howard killed the engine, taking a deep breath in order to steel his nerves as he did so. Throughout the car ride he'd managed to ignore and push aside the growing feeling of anxiety which had begun working its way into knots alongside the tuna salad he'd had for lunch shortly after making his first call to the Wayne Manor. Popping open the car door, David was reward to see the mansion's opening simultaneously; and waiting patiently to usher him inside was none other than the faithful butler himself.

"Pleasure to see you again Mr. Howard," Alfred greeted as soon as the other was within ear shot, "I see you've managed to fix your car."

Too embarrassed to correct the old man, David simply gave a tight smile before following the man inside. That smile however, disappeared entirely as his mouth hung open in astonishment. Sure, the limousine had been classy and reeked of money. And _yes_, the whole outside of the mansion had practically screamed expensive and not-afraid-to-rub-it-in-your-face. Looking back, he really shouldn't have been as shocked as he was, after all Bruce Wayne was a freaking billionaire. But Mr. Howard came from a small town where nothing ever happened and no one ever did anything, and no one-_No one_, spent more than their minimum wage to tile their floors. So when Alfred turned around with a raised eyebrow, he'd like to pretend it was just because the old man wanted to make sure he was still following him, and _not_ because he was making an embarrassingly strange noise as he struggled to close his mouth and just focus on breathing.

The butler waited half a minute more to let David get over the initial shock of the manor's extravagance, before continuing down the marbled hallway. Following at a much slower pace, the teacher's head whipped left and right, taking in every aspect of the well decorated interior. A room with a high domed ceiling complete with golden engravings and a crystal chandelier was passed on the right, while to the left seemed to be a lounge- or one of many as Mr. Howard was soon to find out, for they passed several on their way. Each one had impeccable taste and it wasn't hard to guess that each picture or painting was by some famous artist, or that each piece of furniture was probably antique. Thinking back to his own dingy apartment filled with loose half-graded papers and empty coffee mugs, some of which had spilt onto the floor, he felt his face heat up. From then on he made sure to be extra careful picking up his feet while he walked- he'd probably die if he so much as scratched the perfectly polished, gold-lined marble floor.

He was so engrossed with his thoughts that when he came back to reality it was with a startling realization that Alfred _had been talking the entire time._

"-but not to worry." The butler was saying just as they reached the end of the incredibly long hallway.

Casting about frantically for a response, David blurted out the first word he could get his blank mind to remember,

"O-Oh."

For the second time that night he was met with the old man's raise brow, and he blushed self-consciously, praying feverishly that Alfred wasn't awaiting any other sort of reply. Thankfully it seemed that his response was satisfactory enough, and the butler waved him into the dining room; which had been set up for what seemed a meal meant for the President and the Queen of Britain. The crystal glasses and china plates sat ready and glistening under the glow of yet another chandelier, though David could have sworn this one was made from diamonds- real, _actual _diamonds.

Pulling out a chair directly to the left of the head seat Alfred said,

"Master Wayne will be with you shortly."

It took the younger man a moment before he realized that the polished and expertly carved chair was meant for him, and a moment longer to realize that the butler _would not _be leaving until he saw Mr. Howard safely seated in it. Mumbling an embarrassed thank-you, he took a seat. This was going to be a long night.

Leaving the teacher to marvel at the Vincent Van Gough paintings hanging adjacent from the dining table, Alfred worked his way through the maze of passages and hallways, eventually arriving at his Master's bedroom atop a flight of stairs. Bruce undoubtedly knew that his guest had arrived- he was The Batman after all- but the faithful butler liked to do his job regardless. Rapping sharply on the door, he waited a moment before pushing them open and walking through. His charge was sitting in his study, which was adjacent to his sleeping quarters, and was furiously typing away at his computer. No doubt working on some sort of important business for Wayne Enterprises, those bloody slave drivers. Bruce sighed, nodding his head towards his faithful servant.

"He's here." It wasn't a question, but Alfred felt the need to answer regardless.

"Yes, and it would be most gracious of you to join him downstairs."

There was a pause, and Alfred almost began to believe that he'd have to drag the workaholic to the dining room by the collar of his jacket. However, just as the butler made to step forward, the rumored playboy lazily began to disentangle himself from his work, muttering quite curses underneath his breath as he did so.

"It would be wise I think," reminded Alfred, "If you smiled a bit more when meeting our guest. Unless of course, you think he'd have a better time eating with The Batman."

That earned him a pointed scowl. Nonetheless, when the young billionaire entered the dining room five minutes later, he was grinning ear to ear with his well practiced smirk. Alfred could say he was almost proud; the only thing stopping him was his wish that the smile could have been real. As Bruce introduced himself and took a seat, it was easy to see how embarrassingly self-concise his guest was, and who could blame him? The butler had taught his charge to 'dress to impress.' And impress he did.

"So I hear you are concerned about my ward." Wayne stated, giving David his most charming smile.

"Ah- yes. Yes I am." The teacher said, offering a small thank you to Alfred as he set some sort of fancy looking fish in front of the two; it had probably been cooked in a pan made of gold or something.

"I was told he has been getting remarkable grades for his age." The billionaire pressed, picking up his silverware and digging in with a practiced flourish.

"He has!" Howard quickly reassured. "But it's his…outside life that I'm worried about."

"How so?" Bruce questioned, careful to keep up his nonchalant mannerism without giving anything away.

"Well for starters, Richard seems to be getting injured..a lot."

A silence fell, causing the teacher to look up from the thousand dollar fish he was trying to carve. Across from him Wayne was staring with a 'you've got to be kidding me' look plastered on his face- though he looked though the world he was trying to hide it. He certainly wasn't doing a good job, that's for sure. The pregnant pause lasted half a second longer before Bruce seemed to realize that the teacher was being serious. Taking a long drink from his magically filled glass- courtesy of Alfred- he put on his best endearing expression. He'd really rather be doing something more productive, the Joker was on the loose after all; but he'd heard it was a good idea to nip trouble when it buds.

"You're new to Gotham aren't you Mr. Howard?" They playboy asked, going back to his fish with a carelessness the teacher found unnerving.

"Uh-yes. I am." He shuffled awkwardly in his seat. "But what does this have to do with Richard?"

"Let me put it as plainly as possible," Here Wayne took another long drag from his glass, eyes shining with amusement; a thin layer of regret barely hidden beneath the surface. "Dick lives a very dangerous life. I'm sure you're well aware of the position I hold in Gotham, the media at least make it no secret. I have billions of dollars, split between the banks and the many investments needed to run and maintain an entire enterprise. My name is well known throughout the entire country, but more importantly it's known throughout _Gotham. _But because of this so is Richard's. And that's the problem Mr. Howard- _everyone_ , including the criminals, knows who my ward is.

"Thanks to the media, they know what school he goes to, where he lives," At this point he gestured around himself with a wave of his hand, "they know the time and place he'll be showing up to galas and fundraisers and any other social event I drag him to. So it's not very surprising when some super criminal decides to kidnap and _ransom_ him, after all Richard's just a kid- he won't be able to put up much of a fight. Almost every week there's some nut job trying to nab my kid, which is why I hired and bought the most advanced security I could find. I wouldn't be able to stand it if something truly horrible ever to happened to him; but I wouldn't be able to _survive _if I had to give him up to some other parent- even if it was for his own safety."

This time Wayne took a delicate sip from his glass, and the other man could have _sworn _he saw tears in his eyes.

"So you see Mr. Howard, while I appreciate your concern towards my ward, none of his injuries have been more than slight bruising. However unfortunate this may seem, it is no different from any other rich family with children. Richard is a good kid, and I am doing everything in my power to keep him safe. I hope that this clears things up a bit." Bruce finished, flashing an apologetic smile to complete the picture.

And now that David thought about it, he didn't know why he never saw it like that before. It made perfect sense; but as much as he wanted to concede the billionaires point, he still clung to his original idea, much like a blind man would a railing. He just wanted to make sure is all.

"So…he's not in a gang then?"

Nearly choking on his food Bruce sputtered indignantly, his eyes comically wide in surprise. David would take that as a no then.

"Heh heh, just….kidding?" The teacher tried, smiling sheepishly.

Of course Richard wasn't in a gang! He could have strangled himself with his own stupidity. Richard was just an ordinary kid, living an ordinary life- for being the ward of a billionaire that is; and there was absolutely nothing strange or conspiratory theorist worthy going on here. But before he could slap himself, or before Bruce could formulate the correct response to such a question, Alfred interrupted.

"I'm afraid, Master Wayne, that you're needed immediately at your work."

"How serious is it? They wouldn't call be in if it wasn't important." Bruce questioned, tensing slightly.

"It's no _laughing _matter that's for sure sir." Alfred said, offering an apologetic nod of his head towards Mr. Howard, who was only half-way was done with his dinner. _Oh well_, the teacher thought, _I got what I came for_, and besides; he was tired of trying to figure out how to carve the stupid fish anyway.

**Disclaimer: I can't even finish a story in a year; do you really think I own Young justice? Because I don't.**

**I am so very sorry for my horribly lazy actions. Most of my readers, I assume, must be dead- And it is with my sincerest apology that I approach your darkened tombstone. This chapter took longer than I thought, and I'm sorry for the little-to no action involved. I will post the next part this week as a guarantee that I will not forsake you once again. I hope you enjoyed what I did manage to write, and with your support I would like to finish this journey I have set out to do. **

**As for commenting on this chapter, (just in case anyone was wondering) Bruce is drinking some sort of non-alcoholic beverage the entire time. Can't have The Batman getting drunk now can we? Also I did indeed use the sentence "**he'd heard it was a good idea to nip trouble when it buds.**" ****Twice, and this was because with Mr. Howard thinks Richard is just a tiny budding problem, and nothing he can't handle. While Bruce is under the impression the Howard can easily be dealt with and is not a problem either. Of course they're both wrong, but that's where it gets fun!**

**And lastly, just in case there was any confusion, Alfred is indeed hinting that the Joker is out of hiding and needs to be immediately taken care of. Good 'ole Alfie! He's such a good butler! *sniff* *sniff***

**I know I am asking a lot,**

**But I really need to know if you people still like my style and how things are turning out!**

**So please review!**


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